A Brawl to Remember
by Lady Nailo
Summary: Poor Ike. One minute he's having a drink with the guys, and the next he's being dragged out of bed with one hell of a hangover and told he's getting married. In six hours. And no one seems willing to explain why. Clearly this isn't Ike's best day ever.
1. Prelude to a Brawl

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Smash Bros. in any incarnation. I don't even speak Japanese.

**Quick Note: ** Ike is an adult, and so he does adult things, like drink and (sometimes) swear. Please don't be angry with him because of this. The poor guy deserves a break. There's some implied slash if you squint really hard (well, okay, there's some glaring slash, but that's not really the issue here, is it?), so beware that if you're not into it. Also, I'm sorry, Ike. You really don't deserve the day I'm going to put you through.

Otherwise, enjoy!

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**A Brawl to Remember**

**Chapter One: Prelude to a Brawl**

Ike awoke with a start, to a mouth that was stuffed with beer-soaked cotton balls. Or socks. _Boyd's_socks. His lucky ones. The ones he never washed for fear of _hot water ruining their goddess-given fortune powers HEY MIST GIVE THEM BACK DON'T TOSS THEM IN THE—_

Why was he thinking of this? Why did his head hurt so much? Ike groaned and rolled over, attempting to pull his cloak over his head and shut out the sunlight streaming in through the window by his bed, to no avail. "Traitor," he muttered into the cloak, and immediately regretted it – the sound of his own voice rattling around inside his head set off what promised to be the biggest and most painful headache of his life. He bit back another groan and tried to burrow deeper into the less-than-comfortable dorm mattress, cursing silently at whomever it was that signed him up for this Brawl gig in the first place.

After a moment, he retracted the curse. Soren would know, even if he was worlds away. They'd actually intended for Kieran to make the trip; but the application had come back saying "Main or Title Characters Only, Please" and by then there'd been no way to get the deposit back, and so it was Ike who was shipped off to the huge, bright yellow dormitory instead of the red-haired Knight of Crimea. Soren had, to his credit, tried to come along as well, but Main or Title Characters Only struck again. Everyone involved was lucky he hadn't known about Jigglypuff.

Ike lifted the covers enough to peek at the clock at the wall. Light tried to invade his cocoon – he fought it back bravely, General Ike of the Greil Mercenaries once more, now aware that it was 0937, a fact that surprised him since he couldn't quite remember anything that had happened in the past twelve hours. _I must have had one too many Metroid Screwballs last night,_ he thought, wincing; even _thinking_ hurt. _That's the last time I let Samus buy me anything remotely alcoholic._

He was just attempting to recall what exactly went into a Screwball (he had a vague suspicion that explosives were involved) when a light hand knocked on his door. He winced at the sound.

"Go away," he muttered through the covers. There was a pause, and soft voices from the hallway, and then another knock, this time more insistent. "Go away," he said again, louder this time despite his pounding head. "Unless you have water and asprin, I don't want to see you."

"Ike?" He recognized that voice – it was Zelda, the princess that reminded him of a disturbing cross between Titania and Elincia. As in, she was beautiful and kind and even a little innocent, but could utterly trounce you in a fair fight. Or even a fight where you had the advantage. Plus, she was some kind of ninja. Just what does being the Princess of Hyrule entail, exactly? "Ike, open the door."

Ike responded by burrowing deeper into the mattress and wishing for a portal to open under him and drop him somewhere, even that level with the spikes and the hundred Kirbys. He could handle being beaten by dozens of tiny, pink clones of himself. He couldn't handle Zelda at Hangover o'clock in the morning.

"If you won't open it yourself, then I'm coming in. You had better be wearing pants." There was a metallic sound from the hallway, and the doorknob jiggled twice before the lock clicked and the door swung open. Ike had a second to wonder, again, just what Hyrule required of their monarchs when the covers were suddenly and violently removed, and the full brunt of the sun hit him like a train. Or maybe Gatrie when he's not paying attention to where he's walking. Ike still had a scar from that particular incident.

"Ah, damn," he heard another female voice say. He knew that one, too. "He _is_ wearing pants. You win."

He opened his eyes to see the Princess of Hyrule exchange a half-smirk with Samus Aran. It took him a moment to notice that they were both dressed much, much nicer than he was used to. Well, Zelda always looked like she was ready for a royal ball, but Samus was actually wearing something other than a blue jumpsuit and fifty pounds of power armor. Instead, she was wearing something akin to futuristic military dress, complete with pressed pants with a stripe down the side and knee-high, impossibly shiny boots. She still _moved_ like she was going to kick your ass, but at least she wasn't bearing down on you with a loaded laser gun and a roundhouse kick to the head. She might still have had a gun hidden somewhere, but it wasn't anywhere he wanted to risk looking. He still had a scar from that particular incident, too.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," Samus said, leaning in. "You've got a big day ahead of you, and I'm not letting you sleep through it."

"Didn't I tell you to go away?" Ike muttered, half to himself. Samus chuckled; Zelda frowned. "This isn't about that petition, is it? I told you, I don't think they'll change the name even if 'Smash Siblings' is more politically correct."

"It's not about that," Zelda said, tapping him hard on the temple. A wave of dizziness struck him; he felt ill. "You do have a big day today, and it's our job to make sure you get through it. Now get out of bed and help me pick out your nicest clothes."

He had to hand it to her; Zelda certainly knew how to bully a man out of bed. He wondered vaguely just where she got that skill (like he wondered how she got all her skills, secret ninja-princess training aside) as he blearily watched her march to his wardrobe and pull open the doors. She frowned. "Ugh, you're worse than Link," she declared, and set to work digging through his clothes.

"C'mon, kid, up you go," Samus said, pulling on his arm. Succumbing to peer pressure, Ike sat up, fighting back the urge to be sick all over the floor. "You'll feel better once you've got this out of your system."

"I doubt it," Ike said, hiccupping on the last syllable. His stomach churned, giving him a three-second warning before he jumped up and made a dash for the bathroom. A few moment later, he felt twenty pounds lighter, and his stomach ceased its protests enough for him to groan and rest his head against the cool porcelain toilet bowl. "Thank Ashera for indoor plumbing," he mumbled to himself. Behind him, he heard Zelda clucking her tongue.

"I've had enough. Come over here, and I'll take care of this." Once again, Samus hauled him to his feet and held him upright, enough for the princess to start examining his pupils and feeling his forehead. "Honestly, you boys are all the same. I can bet every other man in this dorm is suffering, too. It serves you right, you know, overindulging like you all did."

"You're lucky you've got two ladies like us to get you up and ready for your big day," Samus chimed in, grinning. "Where would you be without us?"

"Still in bed," he groaned as Zelda whispered something under her breath, soft light gathering around her fingertips. "And would someone please tell me what this 'big day' you keep talking about is?"

"What, you don't remember?" He caught another glance between the two women, and as Zelda's spell washed over him, taking away the headache and the nausea and leaving behind a profound feeling of peace and serenity (not to mention a pleasant lemony smell), Samus said "Ike," without the humor of before and an utterly serious, I'm-going-to-kick-some-space-pirate-ass look on her face, "Ike, you… You're getting _married._"

There was an unbelieving "Guh?" followed closely by a heavy thud, as Ike found himself out cold for the second time in twelve hours.

Zelda and Samus stared down at the young man sprawled on the floor, limbs akimbo. "That went well," Samus said after a moment. Zelda sighed.

"Just pick him up. I have his dress uniform, and we're going to be late," she said, sweeping out the door. Samus watched her go and shrugged.

"At least this is an amusing way to spend the day," she said, before hefting Ike over one shoulder. "And you, kid, had better not puke all over my outfit. Do you know how long I spent ironing the pants this morning?"

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**Another Quick Note:** This story would make a lot more sense if I could reveal critical plot points now, but that would defeat the whole purpose of making you wait. Fufufufufufu.

I'm taking a lot of liberty with the Smash Bros. universe; this story is going to get very meta very quickly, if you haven't noticed already.

I hope you enjoyed this first chapter of what could be some sort of (hopefully) comedic epic. Encouragement and feedback is always good at getting my creative juices flowing. Just a hint!


	2. While You Were Brawling

**Disclaimer: **I'm sure writing this story voided any claim I ever could have made regarding the ownership of Smash Bros.

**A Quick Note: **More slash if you squint and turn sideways. You might not get all the jokes if you don't know much about Fire Emblem, Tellius, and strategy games in general, but I can't really help that, can I? Please excuse Ike's rambling as well - he hasn't had the best start to his day, after all.

Otherwise, enjoy!

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**Chapter Two: While You Were Brawling**

Ike awoke with a start, blinking in flickering, candlelit darkness, Samus's words echoing in his head. _You're getting married… Getting married… Married… Married…_

_Married._

"Ashera's balls," he said aloud. "Soren is going to _kill me_."

"I'm going to do what now?" said a very familiar voice from over his right shoulder. "And if you know what's good for you, you won't swear like that around Rhys. I'm not listening to another of his ridiculous lectures about piety." Papers shuffled briskly, in a very familiar way.

_Ashera's balls, I'll swear if I want too – I'm __**General Ike**__, aren't I?_ Ike thought fiercely, as he turned and saw the sage in question sitting at his desk, an open ledger in front of him, a singular eyebrow raised. He felt his heart leap up into his throat in surprise. "W-w-what the hell are you doing here?" he stuttered, making Soren's remaining eyebrow join its brother halfway up his forehead.

"I'm going over the accounts," he replied, slowly, in a way that implied that Ike had lost several IQ points along with all of his sense. Which may have been right. Ike didn't feel particularly alert or aware. Maybe Zelda's Ancient Hylian Citrus-Based Hangover Cure had done that.

He wondered if she'd ever thought of marketing it.

Probably not.

He also wondered if Link knew about it. He made a mental note to inform him at the earliest opportunity. That kid couldn't hold his alcohol.

"Are you feeling alright?" Soren continued, rising slowly from his desk and reaching for the staff leaning against the back of the chair. Ike blinked and nodded, distracted, noticing for the first time that he was, in fact, sitting in his favorite camp chair (the one Mist had covered in a flowery calico print, probably to spite Soren's dignity), a book lying open on his lap and feeling for all the world like he'd just woken up after a long nap.

_So, maybe it was all just a dream. Maybe I got involved in a drinking contest with Boyd and Zihark again. Maybe I ate some of Mist's cooking._ Soren clicked his tongue and forced Ike's chin up, sounding eerily similar to Zelda as he went about examining pupils and checking vital signs.

"I don't think that little off-world trip did any good for your mental state," Soren muttered, feeling Ike's forehead. "You've been having nightmares about it since you came back. Things about crazy appendages and little pink vacuum cleaners with eyes and birds that want to show you their moves. We need you in top form, especially with our little… situation so near at hand."

Ike was in the middle of thinking, _If I never see another laser-equipped white glove, I can die a happy man _when he caught Soren's miniscule pause. "Wait, what 'situation'?" he asked, a weird feeling of dread building inside him. Last time they'd had a 'situation,' Ike had ended up running half-naked through the streets of Begnion's capital, Rolf under one arm and a broken mandolin under the other. He'd never really lived that one down. Shinon had actually commissioned an artist to capture the moment in watercolors. He'd _framed_ it, the bastard. Though no one could deny that it was a pretty good likeness.

Soren blinked. "What, you don't remember?" There were those words again, back to haunt him. _Please don't say "married," please don't say "married," please don't say "married,"_ he found himself chanting mentally. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when Soren said, instead, "I'm… pregnant."

Almost.

"…and you're the father."

Okay, yeah. That whole relief thing just flew out the window on magical butterfly wings, trailing pixie dust and candy canes. Ike felt his head spin yet again. The fact that Soren was now saying, rather sheepishly, "Well, it might be Boyd, or Oscar, or Reyson; It was quite a party," didn't really help the situation all that much. Or at all. Ike stumbled to his feet and started for the door.

"Wait, where are you going?" Soren called after him. "We still need to decide on color schemes and pick out names!"

"I need some air," Ike said, shuddering, and pushed aside the tent flap, coming face-to-face with… "_Tibarn?!_"

The king of the Hawks was wearing a bright purple jumpsuit and gesturing wildly to a band of similarly dressed laguz, who seemed to be practicing some sort of jumpy, frilly dance involving ribbons tied to batons. Ike froze, his eyes wide, as they turned in unison and waved to him.

And Ike, for the second time that day, fainted dead away.

*****

Ike awoke with a start, to something that was not quite as familiar, but far more reassuring – a young, winged man hanging over him with his nose practically touching Ike's own. Ike didn't want to think about why this could possibly be reassuring (in the face of his previous vision, however, pretty much anything that wasn't purple jumpsuits would be reassuring, to say the least), but he did take a moment to push the offending nose away and look at his surroundings.

He didn't get much of a chance to do so (except to note that he was sprawled on some sort of long chaise, and that he was wearing the old dress uniform Mist insisted on him taking with him when he was signed up for this whole crazy trip) before the young man still perched beside him started talking.

"Who's Soren?" he asked, and without waiting for a reply continued, "is that your girlfriend? I bet she is. Why is she going to kill you? Did you do something wrong? What did you do?" There was a short pause, followed by, "Oooooh, wait, I know what you did. Yeah, she's probably going to kill you."

He was removed abruptly by a familiar figure, who picked him up by the scruff of his toga and deposited him several feet away. "Give him some air, Pit," Samus said, adjusting her jacket. "He's had a rough day."

"Well, I was just asking." It sounded like Pit was pouting. Ike was about to make a comment about pouting being an unbecoming thing on a general (he'd been told something similar by a very flustered Geoffrey once) when Samus appeared, her arms crossed over her chest. She surveyed his spread-eagled form with a cursory nod.

"You clean up pretty nicely," she said, sounding satisfied and rather pleased with herself. "I didn't think it was possible."

Ike glanced down at himself again. He did have to admit, the dress uniform looked much nicer than he thought it would. Mist had done a good job with the tailoring. Even the belt seemed to…

_Wait a second,_ he thought suddenly, horrified realization dawning on him, _I wasn't wearing this when I woke up…_

"You _undressed_ me?" He sputtered up at Samus, who rolled her eyes. "_Is there no privacy here!?_"

"Relax, relax," she replied, in a not-very-soothing voice. She didn't have much practice in soothing, after all. Chasing bounties across galaxies and fighting giant brains, yes. Soothing freaked-out and possibly insane comrades, not so much. "_I _didn't do the actual fun parts," she continued, and jerked her chin over her shoulder. "Those two did, though."

Ike peered around her, already dreading the sight that he knew would greet him. It was probably Peach and Mario. Or Peach and _Wario_. He _really_ dreaded seeing that. He almost sighed in relief when Link and Meta-Knight, both in dark blue (consequently matching both Samus and Ike's own outfits), their swords belted at their waists, came into view. They sat across from each other at a small side table, stacks of dominos arrayed in front of them and looks of intense concentration on both their faces. Well, on Link's face, at least. Meta-Knight was, for obvious reasons, lacking that particular feature.

Both men – _Are they really men? Aren't they more of an elf and a… a weird masked puffball thing? Just what the hell __**is **__he, anyway? Some sort of genetic offshoot of Kirby that likes the dark and has wings? …Holy crap, is Meta-Knight a __**vampire**__?_ – glanced toward Ike as Samus moved out of the way, and raised their hands in greeting before going back to their game.

"I did supervise, though," Samus added, just as the look of relief seemed to cross Ike's face, and burst into laughter at his expression. "Relax, would you?"

"I'm having a little trouble doing that right now, thank you," Ike muttered, taking the glass of water Pit offered toward him and draining it in one gulp. "First I'm stuck with a hangover and a blank in my memory, and then I'm told I'm…"

Realization dawned again, and he leapt to his feet. "Wait, am I still getting married?"

Glances were exchanged between all four non-Greil Mercenaries in the room, and Link and Meta-Knight rose to their feet. The four of them casually arrayed themselves in a circular pattern around Ike as Samus sighed and nodded. "Yes, you are still getting married. I wish I could—"

Ike did what any normal man would do when faced with the prospect of getting married to an unknown person under mysterious and troubling circumstances. He bolted.

Or, he attempted to bolt. But he found his path cut off in all four cardinal directions, and tackling either a battle-hardened space mercenary who could drop kick Bowser twenty yards, a possible vampire with magic wings and a seven-point sword (just how does that _work_, anyway, aside from hurting like a bitch), or a man that regularly wrestles seven-foot-tall living rocks for fun and profit wasn't exactly high on his to-do list. So he turned around and tackled Pit.

Ten seconds later Ike found himself face down on the ground, the teenaged general of Palutena's army straddling his back and laughing in a surprisingly evil cackle. _Where did he learn how to suplex?_ Ike wondered, woozily, as well as _Ashera damn my inability to run in diagonals!_

"Look, I'm sorry," Samus said, squatting down and tilting her head so she and Ike saw eye to eye. She looked almost… _birdlike. _Ike pushed that thought out of his head with a violent shove and concentrated on _not_ looking at her chest, despite it being almost eye level with him. He didn't need any more grief today. "This whole thing," she continued, oblivious to the inner struggle going on within her young captive's mind, "it wasn't really my idea. If I had my way, it would have just been a stupid joke that we used distract you during matches. But it's out of our hands now. We're just as trapped as you are."

_Just as… trapped?_ Ike furrowed his brow. _What the hell is she talking about? Who's calling the shots here, anyway?_ His thoughts were interrupted by a pat on the head from Pit. "It might be fun, anyway!" he said, so brightly that Ike winced. "I mean, haven't you always wanted to get married?" He bounced to his feet and helping the now quite confused (and newly sore) general to his feet.

"Not against my will," Ike muttered in reply, running a hand through his hair. _I wonder if my hair's going to go white over this_. "Do you know how many people are going to hurt me back home over this? Especially Mist. She wanted to be the flower girl, or something like that." He brushed off his jacket, noting that his medals were newly polished and pinned. They were certainly going through a lot of trouble for this, and he still didn't know…

"Hang on," Ike said suddenly, realization dawning on his face. "Just who am I getting married to?" He followed that quickly with, "Please tell me it's not Peach. I know she makes great cakes and all, but I'm really not that into…" He looked up. His four comrades (Captors? Kidnappers? Groomsmen?) were exchanging silent and intent looks (as best they could, of course. Meta-Knight managed to do a lot with just his eyes, glowing yellow though they be). "Oh, no. It **is** Peach, isn't it? Oh, Ashera's _balls_." Ike felt like trying to bolt again. It was just his luck that they'd blocked off the only available path. _What I wouldn't give for a Longbow right about now._

Of course, that would require that Shinon be there, and this was one situation that Ike emphatically did _not_ want that bastard to know about. Of course, Rolf could work, too. But this was also something he emphatically did _not_ want Boyd to know about either. "Why didn't Father ever teach me how to shoot a bow?" he asked, only half rhetorically, when Link sighed and stepped forward, obviously the loser of Super Smash Glance War I.

He'd just raised his hands in a pacifying gesture and opened his mouth to say something hopefully soothing when the door burst open (almost off its hinges, but that was no surprise considering the figure currently standing in the doorway) and a loud, deep-pitched voice called out, "There he is! There's my boy!"

Ike turned and caught a glimpse of his attacker moments before he was enveloped in the biggest bear hug he'd ever gotten. "Are we ready for our big day?" the hugger asked; Ike could hear the voice rumbling around in his barrel-like chest, pressed up against it like he was. It was hard to breathe, pressed up against that coal-black velvet wall.

"What?" was all he managed to get out as the continual hug started to rob him of air. His attacker laughed and only squeezed harder.

_This is the worst day of my life,_ he bemoaned silently as his vision started to tunnel and go black. His last thoughts before losing consciousness for the second time (Third time? Could you really count the dream THAT WILL NOT BE TALKED ABOUT EVEN IN PARENTHETICAL STATEMENTS) that morning were _Ashera -- oh, _Ashera --_ I'm sorry for whatever I've done; I'll return that sword I stole from Stefan - he wasn't really even using it but I know how much he likes it, almost too much, he has a name for it too, you know and oh Ashera why?_

_Why am I marrying __**Ganondorf**__?_

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**More Notes:** I'm sorry, Ike. It'll make sense later on, I promise.

I've tried to stay at least moderately in-character with each persona introduced, but I do take some liberties. Pit is probably the biggest violation thus far, but I can't get the idea that he's a bit hyperactive and way too curious for his own good out of my head. I think the whole place sees him as a little brother, even the kids. If you see any blatant violations, or want to know why I'm writing the characters as they are, feel free to ask, theorize, and complain to me about it :D

This is the last chapter I have ready-written, so the next one may be a little while before it shows up here. Comments and criticisms are welcomed, so please let me know what you think!


	3. A Brawler and a Gentleman

**A/N: **Sorry for the long, long, _long_ period between chapters. Life and I got in a fight, and Life won. Hence, it owned me for the past several months. _Hard._

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Ike, I certainly wouldn't be wasting my time writing fanfic about him.

**NOTE:** Yet more implied slash. Also, more Fire Emblem references. And the author failing to be funny.

* * *

**Chapter Three: A Brawler and a Gentleman**

Ike awoke with a start, called to attention and prepared for trouble. The enemy was upon him, and he had only enough time to get in one attack. He was just reaching for his sword when—

—when he realized that he was standing in the middle of the room he'd passed out in, poised for battle, his hands clutching for an obviously missing Ragnell. He blinked once, twice, and glanced around the room.

Link and Pit hung on each other, faces red and laughing as hard as they could. Samus stood nearby, her arms crossed over her chest, a look of smug satisfaction on her face. Meta-Knight was digging through a pocket (presumably) hidden somewhere in his cape, shaking his head slowly. After a moment, he obviously found what he was looking for and handed Samus a large gold coin, which she flipped once before slipping it into her back pocket (where Ike was most definitely NOT looking) and continuing to look smugly satisfied. Ike gave her a questioning look; she grinned.

"Up and at 'em, kid," she said, and hauled him to his feet. _Up and at 'em, up and at 'em…_ Ike frowned as he pondered the phrase. It sounded familiar, like…

…like what his father had always yelled when he'd overslept and almost missed breakfast. Like what Mist had also taken to yelling after he'd overslept and almost missed the whole Crimean Independence War. Like what Soren had termed "Ike's never-fail get-him-on-his-feet-before-he's-even-awake magical phrase." Never mind that Soren was ninety-percent of the reason he was up so late in the first place.

Oh, that _bitch._

"How'd you find out about that?" he asked the still-smirking Samus. She shrugged and reached over to straighten his coat, gone askew in the flurry of fainting fits Ike seemed intent on having.

"Sometimes having a psychic on the team is a good thing," she said. Ike took a moment to add Lucas and Ness to the List of People to Question When This is Over. Currently blinking in neon lights at the top of that list was "Samus," with the note, "Ask Her Why The Hell You're Marrying Ganondorf."

Ike felt a little faint just thinking about that. He swallowed the feeling and took a deep breath. _Nice and easy, Ike. Take it nice and easy._

He'd just opened his mouth to ask Samus why the hell he was marrying Ganondorf when the same door the offending King of the Desert had burst through earlier swung open with much less crash but no less urgency. Ike had to squint to be sure he was seeing correctly.

"Roy? Didn't you leave?"

Roy paused in the middle of what was obviously some sort of urgent task to peer curiously at Ike. Ike stared curiously back. All in all, it was a curious sort of exchange.

"They needed an interpreter," Roy said after a moment, and then brightened up considerably. "But you're awake, which is good! I think. At least now we know that we can start soon, right? We're getting impatient in the other room. Or, at least Princess Zelda is."

Ike winced at the sound of that particular name, and was slightly relieved when he saw Link do the same thing, almost in unison. _My brother in arms!_ He thought, magnanimously resisting leaping up to hug the elf in question; he was pretty sure the hug from Ganondorf had broken at least two of his ribs. He shifted uncomfortably and winced again. No, no wait, three ribs, definitely. _Back in Tellius, assaulting a general is a crime. But then again, Ganondorf _is_ a criminal, so you can't expect much from hi-_

_Oh, crap, __**Ganondorf.**_ Ike felt the urge to be sick again, and considered aiming for the back of Samus's too-shiny boots, just to be spiteful. He settled for an uncomfortable _urp_-ing sound that brought all the attention in the room back on him with an almost audible snap. He resisted the urge to shrink back.

"How're ya feeling, champ?" Samus asked, with about as much empathy as a field surgeon telling his patient that a limb would have to come off. A momentary image of Soren flitted unbidden across his mind, along with the familiar regret of ever letting Rhys train him in the proper use of healing staves. Soren and Samus would probably get along pretty well, he couldn't help but think. Either that or they'd hate each other instantly and utterly. Ike didn't want to think about the consequences of either theory, though, considering what had happened the last time he'd told Soren to make friends. They'd only just finished paying off Naesala for covering the repair bills to Castle Phoenecis, and the crow king charged _interest_. He blinked, coming back to reality with a pang of discomfort in the pit of his stomach.

"I feel like I'm going to be sick all over your shoes," he grunted, glancing up at Samus. She smiled cheerfully.

"Do it and your day gets _much_ worse," she said, and crossed her arms over her chest with purpose. "Stand up straight, kid, because the day's only just begun, and-" She paused then, and cocked her head to the side. "You look like you're about to say something."

If there was one thing Ike had (aside from washboard abs and a love of roasted meat), it was a so-called "honest face," called that (mostly in disgust) by the less-than-honest members of the Greil Mercenaries and the primary reason they refused to take him on any more missions involving subterfuge after that first one. Ike still wasn't sure what went wrong with that particular job. He'd followed Shinon's script to the letter and everything, which wasn't hard, since he only had two lines: "Hello, Officer," and "Turnips and various other root vegetables."

Soren had actually _laughed_ when he came to bail him out. Even at his most happy (and Ike was probably the only person who had ever seen him that happy, _period_) Soren never laughed. Rolf had hid under his bed for a week after that.

"Kid?" Ike snapped out of his reminiscence with a start and looked up at Samus. The mercenary was leaning down, looking oddly concerned. "Kid, you're looking a little..."

He couldn't take it anymore. "Why am I marrying Ganondorf?" he blurted out, and all activity in the room came to a dead stop as five pairs of eyes fixed themselves to Ike and blinked in confused unison. Pit, predictably, was the first to talk.

"You're marrying Ganondorf?" he said, tilting his head in confusion. "I think I missed something."

Ike felt his terror at the thought of marrying a large, hairy desert-dwelling sociopath disappear, replaced quickly by confusion and then a new, alternate terror at what unknown person might be waiting down the hall to exchange whatever passed for marriage vows in this strange, strange world with him. Then his tactician's senses alerted him to the fact that his friends were still staring oddly at him and had unknowingly _left the path to the still-open door wide open._

Ike was a ranger long before he was a general, or a lord, or a participant in the weirdest fighting tournament this side of Mario Kart. And before that, he was a man who was accustomed to evading his annoyed half-dragon best friend after he'd left a bowl of stew out overnight on the bedside table and it had fallen onto his pillow. While said half-dragon roommate was still sleeping there.

Suffice to say, Ike knew not to hesitate when an opening was presented to him.

He took off in a dead run for the door and skidded out of the room while his friends were still recovering enough to realize what he was doing. Slamming the door behind him, he sprinted down the hallway and turned a corner before pausing and looking around.

He was in a long corridor stretching several yards in both directions; closed doors lined the hallway, though the few that Ike tried were apparently locked. He paused again, at a loss for what exactly to do. He hadn't really thought his plan out in advance of _Get the hell out of there before they make you marry someo-_

_Do I hear someone talking? _He paused his mental freakout for a minute and strained to catch the faint sounds of conversation coming from the... _left corridor!_ He took off in a run, still not sure what his plan was. The others would be coming after him in moments, if they weren't on his tail already, and maybe, just maybe, he could find someone who wasn't as crazy as everyone else apparently was. Someone that would explain what exactly the _hell_ was going on around here.

_Maybe this is a mass hallucination_, he thought as he skidded around another corner and almost crashed into a side table; his ranger reflexes saved what was probably a priceless vase from a terrible fate. Behind him, he could hear the sound of heavy footsteps pounding toward him. _Maybe this is another Subspace Emissary. Maybe we'll all wake up tomorrow and find out it was all a weird communal dream in which everyone decided that I would look really cute in a uniform or something._ He sincerely hoped for the latter. It had been a while since he'd looked so good, after all.

Panting hard, he ducked around another corner and found himself at the end of the hallway. There was a door, slightly ajar, and the sound of voices drifted out of the crack and was like music to his poor traumatized soul. _Please let them be normal, please let them be normal, please let them be normal_, he prayed as he crashed through the door and stumbled to a halt. _Or at least as normal as you can expect someone to be when they've been forced to fight lightsaber duels against a giant gorilla with a chip on his shoulder and unlimited supplies of spicy curry._ That had not been a fun week.

Ike slammed the door closed and sighed in relief before turning around. Three pairs of eyes looked back at him in startled disbelief. _Zelda_, Ike noted warily as the princess-ninja raised an eyebrow at him in skeptical curiosity. He glanced at the figure next to her.

_Peach. Well, I expected that,_ he thought, noting that both princesses were dressed in regal, if oddly subdued finery. _This must be the, er..._ What _was _it? Bridal chamber? Boudoir? Hostage situation? He looked at the third person in the room and took an involuntary step back.

"_Marth_?"

The prince in question blinked himself out of his confused stare and breathed a sigh of relief, though Ike wasn't really sure why he would be doing that. "Are you guys the other wedding party?"

Zelda opened her mouth to say something, but Marth jumped up from his seat at some sort of fancy vanity and hurried toward Ike. "アイク！" he began, gesturing wildly as he spoke, "あなたは私を助けてくれる！ガノンドロフは私を採用し、私はあなたと結婚することによって私たちの王国を引き継ぐとしている！"

Ike stared at him for a long moment, in which time five more people burst into the room and fell in a pile at his back. He ignored them to continue staring at Marth. _Maybe if I stare at him long enough, he'll start speaking English. _Marth, for his part, managed to only look a little frantic at the blank look on Ike's face.

"Right," Ike said finally, his plan a failure. "You can't speak English. Makes perfect sense."

"T-that's why I-I'm h-h-here," wheezed Roy, catching his breath from the headlong sprint from the other waiting room. "N-needs a translator, r-right?"

"Wasn't _your_ game never released in English, either?" Samus asked suddenly. Roy shrugged.

"Fan translations," he said simply.

There was a moment of understanding all around as everyone suddenly realized. "That explains Lucas, too," Zelda said thoughtfully. Then Marth threw his hands up in the air.

"誰も私に耳を傾けていますか？" he said rapidly, "私は別の男性と結婚することを余儀なくされてんだよ！そして、私はゲイではないんだよ！"

"Just calm down, okay?" Roy said, as Ike stared at Marth again. There was something odd about him today. He looked rather... _white._

_White._

_WHITE._

_HE'S WEARING WHITE._

"Oh, no," he said weakly, clutching desperately for something to hold himself up as realization hit him over the head like a hammer thrown by a very angry plumber. As was his luck that day, he got Marth. "Oh, no. I'm marrying _you._"

"おやおや," Marth said, bearing his burden like a true prince of Altea. If Titania was there, she would be telling Ike to act more like him: with the dignity of a prince dealing with a crisis and not with the wailing terror of a five-year-old dealing with the bogeyman under his bed.

Except the bogeyman Ike was thinking of didn't live under his bed. No, this bogeyman was much, _much_ closer. As in, slept in the same tent as him.

_Oh, Ashera, Soren is really, truly, and absolutely __**going to kill me.**_

_**

* * *

**_

**Notes Notes Notes:** Yet again, Ike, I'm sorry. You're just such an easy target.

I guess I can explain the genesis of this story: My favorite thing to do in Melee was put Marth in his all-white outfit and call him "Wedding Fun Marth." When Brawl came out and I found out Ike had a very similar outfit, I immediately dubbed him "Wedding Fun Ike" and started narrating he and Marth's terrible idea of a wedding that was actually... Well, I can't tell that part yet. Hence this story. And that's at least part of it :D

Marth speaks all in Japanese because at the time I started writing this, he had still never been translated in English (and yet Roy had a fan-translation, hence his job as the translator). So the joke was made moot because Intelligent Systems finally got off their butt and released it to us. AUTHOR FAIL. Oh, well, I'm still going along with it because I still find it funny. Maybe you readers will, too? Also, I don't actually speak Japanese, so all that up there was thanks to Google Translate. I'm just failing all over the place here D:

If you're still reading this, thank you for sticking it out! You're my favorite reader, and don't let anyone else tell you otherwise ;)

Questions, comments, and critiques are always welcome! Thanks for reading :)


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